


Not An Angel

by the_most_beautiful_broom



Series: Tumblr Prompts [10]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, End of the World, F/M, First Kiss, so far at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 20:36:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14701767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_most_beautiful_broom/pseuds/the_most_beautiful_broom
Summary: For the prompt "Write a kiss...because the world is saved."





	Not An Angel

“We did it.”

He says it so quietly, like he can’t believe it for himself, and Clark looks up at Bellamy. His jaw is slack and his eyes are wide, as he looks around them in disbelief. But then it’s like a firecracker goes off inside of him and his face just splits in a smile.

“WE DID IT!” he yells, and it echoes over the canyon, bouncing off the trees and the river, trees that will grow for generations and water that will nourish it for just as long. And the sun glints and they can hear the birds chirping their unbothered melody but all of it pales in comparison to the joy radiating from the man beside her.

Clarke’s heart clenches at the sight, the way his smile lights his face and then his head is thrown back as he’s laughing. And she can’t help but laugh, but somehow she’s crying too, and when Bellamy turns to her, what else can she do but throw her arms around his neck? His clench around her waist and then he’s lifting and they’re twirling, choking on their laughter and tears and shaking with happiness.

She’s giddy when he sets her down, but she refuses to let go of him. Her arms curl on the sleeves of his shirt, her fingers clenching the material, because she knows he’s here, but she’s had this dream so many times…

“Hey,” he says quietly, sensing the change in her and ducking his head. “What is it?”

But this time it’s here.

This time he’s real. He’s in front of her and she can count his freckles by sight and not memory. And she can see him breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, and can see his pulse in his throat and the bob in his throat, and she’s no longer laughing, but she’s pretty sure she might burst with the beauty of this reality.

“You…” she breaks off, hissing out a breath as she tries to keep her voice steady. “You weren’t real. So many times during those six years. I wondered if I’d made you up, to keep Madi and me sane, and if it hadn’t always been just her and me and Eden. And then I’d remember you, so vividly, so alive, and I’d know you were real. But then I’d wake up…”

She swallows the words rather than hear them on a sob. But when she looks back up at him, his eyes are wet, and he nods slowly.

“Me too,” he says, his voice thick. “So many times, I though my golden-haired princess couldn’t have been real. That I must’ve imagined an angel.”

She snorts, despite herself. “Not an angel.”

“An angel,” Bellamy says emphatically, and though she doesn’t agree with him, she can see it in his glistening eyes, that he believes it.

And there’s so much to say, so much hidden in six years and in the last few months when they’ve been together but still separated and it has all led to this. Standing in his arms, sunshine on their faces and in their hearts and Clarke can’t do anything but lean into him and trust that he’s being pulled to her in the same way.

And he is.

His lips are tentative when they first brush against hers, uncertain and nervous, like they’re both still scared it’s a mirage But then they seem to realize, in the same moment, with the same clarity that they always have, that this isn’t a dream. Because he smells like sweat and her lips are chapped and it’s not perfect but oh it’s so much better. His hands tighten around her back and she bends into him, fitting into him, her fingers curling into his hair and reveling in the realness of it all. 


End file.
